The Art of Awkward Seduction
by Osckmo
Summary: Post Blue Bird. Jane and Lisbon get close.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first story I have written. Ever. Gulp.

Patrick Jane was in love.

Of course, he'd been in love for years, but that wasn't something he'd been able to admit to himself, let alone her or anybody else. His relentless Red John hunting took all of his energy for so long, and he couldn't allow himself to feel anything, to let anybody feel something for him.

But now? Teresa Lisbon was leaving. Leaving him. He came back to the USA for her, to be with her. Still, he hadn't admitted his feelings for her to himself or to anybody else. Least of all her. She was everything, and when she, back at the Blue Bird Lodge, rightly, tearfully, yelled at him to leave her alone, that he forgot what it was like to be human, he broke a little. She was right. Of course she was right. She usually was.

So when the realisation hit him, he was more than a little drunk, and knee deep in solving a cold case. He ran from the room, catching the killer would have to wait. It was lower down on his list of priorities. Except they chose that moment to show up, causing him great panic and distress. Her plane was going to leave Miami before he could get to the airport. He was so stupid. He waited too long. Jane tried desperately to convince the killers to leave, that he wouldn't tell. He'd get Cho and Abbott onto them once he was on the move, of course, but they didn't need to know that.

It didn't go down like he thought, so many delays, so little time, though when he demanded, desperately, for Abbott to hand him his keys, the G-Man, a true romantic, relinquished them immediately.

Jane, desperate, open, so open, terrified. It wasn't something that happened very often. Ever, really. But he liked the feeling, foreign, nice. So he broke the law and maybe an ankle to hijack a plane to profess his love to her, his Lisbon. He stammered, unsure, scared, but he needed to say it. He needed her to know. She had a right to know. She cried. He cried too. Relief. Anger too, for waiting this long to say the words to her. Guilt, for maybe ruining her chances with Pike; a life, a future she could have, far away.

Still. He was fairly happy. He sat in the TSA interrogation room, paying little attention to where he was, what the TSA agent had to say. He didn't care. Lisbon was thousands of miles away from him now. He cared about that. He was broken, open, raw, feeling everything and nothing. He stared at the desk in front of him, unseeing, deep in his own thoughts, as one TSA agent left the room and another entered.

Or. Wait. He knew. He always knew. Her scent, maybe, or just her shape. Her presence. He could always feel her when she was close.

Lisbon slid into the chair opposite him and that moment? One of the best of his life. Jane was exposed now, for all the world to see. And his world was her. She could see all of him, and he wanted her to.

They spent the rest of the day together. What was left of it. Once Abbott convinced the TSA that Jane was working an undercover sting and that all of his actions were perfectly legal. Jane owed Abbott big time, he knew. Abbott had fetched his things from the Blue Bird and brought them to the airport for him. Mostly banter, Lisbon and Jane, together again, no really real serious talk. That was for later. For now, they were alone in Florida. Jane, with a twisted ankle, and Lisbon, with no place to go home to upon return to Texas. Jane wanted to take Lisbon to the zoo, of all places. Of course, he couldn't really walk and Lisbon insisted he get his ankle examined, so they spent their first day together as a couple in a nearby hospital waiting room. Neither of them minded. It was fitting almost. Jane entertained Lisbon with stories of his unusual, carnie, childhood. Things he'd never told her. Hadn't told anybody since Angela. Lisbon told him about the box she kept his letters in. How she'd read them at night, how they'd kept her warm and alive. Several hours, an X-ray and some crutches later, they opted for ice cream on the beach.

Dinner was Italian. Nice restaurant, not fancy, paper napkins all the way. Delicious food though, and when the waitress flirted with Jane he didn't flirt back. Unusual for Jane, thought Lisbon. He gazed at Teresa adoringly whenever she looked away. And tentatively when she looked back.  
Dessert and two bottles of wine later, Patrick asked the waitress to recommend a nearby hotel. A nice one.

Patrick Jane was scared. He opened the hotel room door and flicked on the light, holding the door open for Teresa to enter first. She was nervous too, he knew. He entered the room behind her, shutting the door tentatively. She stood next to him, looking around, a little unsure what happens next. Unsure if they were ready for this. If _she_ was ready for this.

Jane watched her expressions closely. She was nervous but game. He hadn't made a move on her since he kissed her in the interrogation room, and she was waiting, letting him call the shots. His declaration, his pace. He had held her hand in the cab on the way to the hotel. It had stolen his breath away. Hers too. But now. Now they were in a room that screamed intimacy and he buried his terror for a minute, buried it from himself, and reached for Teresa. He kissed her then. Gently. She reciprocated immediately, tugging his blonde curls with one hand; the other wrapped around his neck. His lips on hers were slow, sensual. He slid his hands to her hips and backed her up against the wall next to the door. She started a little, gasped, and he took that opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. It was unexpected; he'd been so... chaste? Up until that point and now he was, well, she definitely heard him moan then. That was sexy. He was always so in control of himself, he was letting her know how much he desired her. She tugged on his hair, hard, and massaged his tongue back with her own. Incredible. He swallowed a strangled groan before pulling back, tangling one hand in her dark locks and grinning down at her.

"What?", she quirked an eyebrow.  
"You're beautiful. You are so beautiful. You have no idea what you do to me."

Jane gently ran his fingertips over her chin, sweeping upwards, along her reddened cheek and landing in her hair, tugging, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to him. His other hand pressing into her hip, and he bit her. Her throat. Not painfully hard, but enough to jolt her. He knew she was giving him the illusion of the upper hand, of control, so a brief moment of surprise was all he needed, to show her. He pressed his entire body against hers then, he wanted Teresa to know. He extricated his teeth from her throat with a chuckle and gently kissed below her ear. She liked that, he could tell. He thrust his pelvis against her. Hard. They groaned simultaneously, throaty. Her eyes rolled back. His obvious arousal pressed against her stomach.

Breathless, desirous, Teresa implored, "Is this what you want?", as she ran her hands over his chest, feeling the material of his floral shirt underneath her fingers, warm, and very very Jane.  
Patrick laughed, joyful, pausing his featherlight kiss exploration of her throat, and, into her ear. "I haven't done this in such a very long time."  
"...made out against a wall?"  
Ha! "Yes, that's exactly what I meant. Not the 'being in love' bit." He pulled away from her then, taking her hand in his and surveying the room for the first time. "Come. There's a mini-fridge. Maybe there's champagne." He left her panting against the wall, crossed the room. Gleefully, it seemed, a spring in his step, obvious underneath the limping. She was wanton already. Cruel, cruel man.

"Jane?" She moved to the couch, sitting on it demurely, looking up at him.  
"Hmm?" he responded, expertly pouring two glasses of champagne from a miniature bottle with a flourish, face flushed, happiness forcing the corners of his mouth and the corners of his eyes to twitch and crinkle.  
"Jane, I don't know if maybe we're moving too fast. Maybe, I don't know. If we're ready. It's just... fast."  
Jane handed her a glass, "Voila!", he announced, and sat next to her, leaned back. Thoughtfully sipped his own champagne. Surveyed her seriously. Head to toe. Slowly. Examined her. She wore green. She looked lovely in green. He'd mussed her hair up pretty good; it was sexy, he was pleased. Eventually, he nodded to himself, satisfied.  
"Jane."  
Very serious. "I. Well. Teresa. It's been twelve years, so I'm uncertain where you got that notion from. Godot has already been and gone." She rolled her eyes. He grinned.  
"I don't know if I- you know. There's a couch in this hotel room. I know this because we're sitting on it. I'd wager there's a bed too, if we went exploring. I will magnanimously relinquish use of the bed to you and gentlemanly take the couch. If I have to. You know how much I hate sleeping on couches, but for you, Teresa, anything."


	2. Chapter 2

It was late, well after midnight. Both Jane and Lisbon were used to functioning on next to no sleep but neither had been to bed for over 48 hours and the events of the past couple of days had been exhausting. The combined effects of the sleep deprivation, wine from dinner, the two miniature bottles of champagne and a handful of mini spirits bottles between them were taking their toll. So of course Jane decided it was the perfect time to teach Teresa how to juggle. Standing up quickly, he held two empty mini bottles of vodka in one hand and an empty mini bottle of scotch in the other. In his haste to show off, he had put his weight on his twisted ankle without thinking and yowled before plonking himself back down on the couch next to Lisbon. Jane dropped the bottles on the floor and rubbed his ankle petulantly.

Far from sympathetic, she offered him an amused, "Do you need me to kiss it better?", rolling her eyes at her own lack of originality and hiding a smirk.  
Jane scowled. "Listen, woman. This is serious. Serious business. Now nobody will ever teach you to juggle. The world is suddenly a less entertaining place. Plus, I'm battlescarred, maybe for life. I might never walk again."  
"It's good you're not indulging in hyperbole."  
"A nicer girlfriend would offer to ice my wounds."  
Lisbon sipped from a mini bottle of gin, pretended she didn't hear, amused at his antics. His use of the word 'girlfriend' warmed her though, and her heart sped up. Patrick noted her sudden intake of breath.  
"I'm in pain here, Lisbon!" he announced melodramatically.  
"And whose fault is that?"  
"Yours!" He gestured in her general direction with one hand, drawing circles in the air with his fingertips, continuing to rub his ankle with the other.  
"How do you figure?!", Teresa was close to giggling; Jane's cross expression intermixed with champagne definitely brought out her giggly side.  
He spoke to her slowly, like she was a child. "If you weren't on the plane, I wouldn't have had to hop the fence. You should be praising my masculinity right about now."  
"Masculine men don't juggle." She was definitely giggling now.  
"Mmm. You're wrong, so so wrong, and I can prove you wrong."  
Jane leaned toward her, amused, his eyes flitting between her gaze and her lips. Lisbon surprised him though, making a move before he could. Forgetting her mini gin bottle, she wrapped an arm around his neck pulled him towards her, pressing her lips to his, kissing him carefully, gently. Patrick was delighted, running his fingers over her cheek, her forehead, fondling her hair between his fingers.

"Teresa", he panted between kisses, "You made me wet."  
"Not exactly what I was going for...", she pulled back to gaze at his amused expression, graced him with a confused one.  
"Did you intentionally dump gin all over my lap?" he accused, gesturing to his damp trousers.  
Lisbon glanced at his lap before her hand flew to her mouth, laughter bubbling over. "You are _not _allowed to use this as a suave excuse to take off your pants." She made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and returning to hand it to him before excusing herself back to the bathroom.  
"For one thing,", Jane called to her retreating form, attempting to soak up the spilled alcohol, "If I did want to take off my pants, I wouldn't need an excuse, suave or otherwise, to do it, and for another thing-", his voice trailed off as he realised Teresa was long gone and wasn't listening. "Never mind then."  
Jane was dying for a cup of tea, it'd been hours since his last one back at the restaurant, but, he had noted earlier, the hotel inexplicably only provided complimentary coffee in the room. Calling down for room service was an option, but the phone wasn't in reaching distance and his ankle was genuinely sore. He figured the alcohol was numbing most of the pain. Plus the endorphins. So many endorphins. He couldn't remember the last time he was this happy. Pulling off his weary leather shoes and stretching out his sore ankle, he winced before lying down on the couch, closing his eyes, unable to wipe a grin off his face.

Lisbon emerged from the bathroom several minutes later only to discover Jane was gone. The back of the couch faced where she was standing and his blonde curls were no longer visible over the top of it. She thought perhaps he'd gone into the bedroom but as she made her way over to the back of the couch and peered over, she took in the sight of a sleeping Jane stretched across the entire length of the sofa, one hand dragging on the carpet, his ankles crossed. He looked at peace and happy. Younger. Lisbon reached down to stroke the unruly curls on his forehead. She'd wanted to do that for years. Suddenly, Jane's hand shot out and intercepted hers an inch before it made contact with him. She gasped. He smirked, eyes still closed, and she rolled her eyes.  
"Jane!", she scolded.  
"Teresa Lisbon. I do." His eyes remained closed.  
She peered at him, puzzled. "I dig you, Jane. But... you do realise we're not exchanging vows right now, right?"  
"Heh.", he opened his eyes at that, focusing his green-blue gaze on her ocean green one. "You 'dig' me." Amused.  
"Whatever. Shut up."  
Jane sat up, kissed the fingers of the hand he caught. "I'm not marrying you tonight, though we'll return to that topic at a later date. Put a pin in it for now. No. It's not that. I do. Need you to kiss it better."


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbon snatched her hand back and scoffed. "There is no way I am kissing your-", she paused, her eyes growing wide. "Was that supposed to be a double entendre?"  
Jane squinted at her, giddy. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're the one who offered."  
"How drunk are you, exactly?"  
He tried to usher her back around the couch, reaching up to put a hand on her hip, pushing gently. Lisbon wasn't budging. He pouted. "Too drunk to legally drive, not drunk enough to appreciate the artistic genius that is the Spice Girls. How drunk are you?"  
"Enough to know I need to go to bed."  
"Eh. Fine." Jane flopped back down into a prone position and closed his eyes.  
Teresa picked up the scattered alcohol bottles and disposed them in a waste receptacle before grabbing her suitcase and heading towards what she assumed was the bedroom.  
"Hey", Jane mumbled to the ceiling, not entirely sure Teresa could still hear him. "You make life worth living. I probably should have told you that sooner."

She heard him but didn't know how to respond so she continued into the bedroom where she quickly changed into a dark purple nightgown. It was silky and pretty, almost down to her knees, sleeveless and a little bit clingier than she would ordinarily wear to bed while working a case. She couldn't say why she had forgone her usual no-nonsense bedroom attire, but she certainly hadn't intended anybody to see her in it when she packed for Miami, and she wasn't sure she was ready for Jane to see her in it.  
Except, she was on the right side of inebriated for her defenses to be lowered, and she couldn't actually let him sleep on the couch, no matter how obnoxious he was. So, instead of pulling back the covers and climbing in, she opened the door, toothbrush in hand. Entering the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth and wash her face, she exited and stood hovering behind the couch, a bit uncertain.  
"Jane?" she stage whispered.  
"Mmm?" he responded, not moving.  
"Come to bed."  
Jane sat up then, groggy, and rubbed at his face. "Teresa, I can't-"  
"No funny business."  
He grinned at that, shyly looking at the carpet. "Nothing I would ever do to you in the bedroom would be described as 'funny', let the record show. Mindblowing, maybe. Life changing, definitely."  
Teresa wanted to mock-scowl at him but he sounded so happy, pleased with his own flirty sense of humour. She laughed instead. "Having fun, are you?"  
"You have no idea how much. I was going to tell you that I can't really walk at the moment." He glanced behind him. "Care to help me in the general direction of the bathroom?"  
As she stepped towards him, he took in her current state of dress.  
"Woah." He stared at her, eyes as round as saucers, drinking her in. The nightgown accentuated her curves, clung to her in all of the right places.  
Hand on her hip, she chewed her bottom lip. "It was, uh, it was all I brought with me to sleep in."  
"This is- no, this is very, very good. I'm not complaining."  
Flattered, she flushed a little and then held out her hand to help him up. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she helped him limp towards the bathroom.  
"You can manage from here on out, right?" she asked, mostly joking.  
"Ever since I was four."

He closed the bathroom door and she made her way back to the bedroom, turning on her bedside lamp before flicking off the main light. She slid under the blankets on the right hand side of the bed. It was large, kingsize, heavy, wooden, ornate. It matched the almost gothic thick velvety drapes that covered the windows. Not very Miami-esque, but a nice ambiance to fall asleep to all the same. She curled onto her side and closed her eyes.  
Appearing in the doorway then, Jane hesitated. She looked small and snuggly and he was suddenly aware, really aware, that he was about to share a bed with Teresa. He could tell by her breathing she wasn't asleep. She was waiting. For him.

Jane hobbled to the other side of the bed and gingerly laid himself down on top of the plush bedspread, careful not jostle Lisbon. He was unsure how this was supposed to work, how to sleep with somebody. Well, not just somebody. She wasn't just somebody. It was exciting, and a frisson of adrenaline, happiness mixed with fear, gripped him and he forgot how to breathe, just for a second. Eyes closed, fingers interlocked across his chest, he lay as still and quietly as possible.

"You're really going to sleep like that?" she asked him.  
Without opening his eyes he could tell she'd rolled over and was facing him. "Like what?"  
"Fully clothed on top of the covers?"  
"Why, Lisbon, are you hitting on me? I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, but my goal here is to sleep and I don't need you taking advantage of me."  
Groaning, Teresa punched him gently in the shoulder.  
"Will it make you happy if I take off my socks? I haven't showered today, if that's your thing."  
Teresa rolled away from him, more asleep than awake by this point, certainly not alert enough to indulge him in banter, much as she enjoyed it. "Jane, nothing would make me happier. You wear those socks too often. It's creepy."  
He opened his eyes at that, glanced over at the back of her head. "Creepy? You gave them to me. Surely you mean romantic?"  
"It's scientifically impossible for socks to be romantic."  
"You bought them; tell yourself that!" he asserted, pulling off his socks and hopping off the bed to lift the bedspread and climb under. There were several layers of sheets and blankets separating them. Jane reached over to stroke her hair, kiss her ear. Teresa didn't respond, having drifted off to sleep.

"I love you", he told her unconscious form. It was for his own benefit. He liked to hear the words, he wanted to say the words. He wanted to say them to her, over and over, forever, and would if he didn't think she'd find it insincere or annoying. "I'm going to do my best to make you happy."

Lying back against the pillows, he grinned at the ceiling and fell into a cheerful, dreamless slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Wow. Ego boost.  
Yes, this is the first story I have ever written in my life. Well, first anything I have written since University essays a decade ago! I don't actually know how to, but I'm having a lot of fun! This writing thing is hard work, who knew?! Thank you for the votes of confidence. I'm going to go hide now.

Patrick slept a little. Not as much as he was hoping but more than he thought he would, given his extreme anxiety at the current situation. Upon his first moment of waking, he had been struck by two things almost simultaneously. Firstly, ouch, should he ever in future consider again physical pursuits that involved running, climbing and jumping, he should absolutely reconsider considering it. Unless it was for Teresa. Which it was, making that first thought moot. And secondly, probably more importantly, Teresa's hair smelled like lavender.

Opening his eyes, he surveyed his current predicament. It was unexpected only in that he had intended to keep his distance, not that it was unusual for people sharing a bed to cuddle. Which they were. Both were underneath the bedspread, but Lisbon who was underneath some extra layers of bedding had pushed them down to her waist. Or he had, during the night. Sleep Jane might have bravado that awake Jane did not. Not when it came to this. He had both arms wrapped around Lisbon's back. Well. Okay. One hand on her back. The other snaked down under the blankets to firmly grasp her behind through her silky nightgown. Sleep Jane obviously had game, pressing her tightly into his chest. Sleep Lisbon, still asleep, had one hand wound into his hair, her face snuggled into his throat. Her lips were pressed against his pulse point.

Best way to wake up ever, and he was definitely... ready...  
But Awake Jane wasn't bold enough for, uh, whatever this was. It was nice though, beyond nice, exciting, having desires and sexual feelings. He hadn't allowed himself to indulge in a very long time, and now? He supposed he was allowed to, though he didn't quite know what that meant. He did allow himself to fondle Teresa's buttocks though. Just a small squeeze and Sleep Lisbon sighed and kissed his throat. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and he was aroused and she was so- ugh, asleep. He didn't want to take advantage of her while she was unconscious. He took his hand out from under the blankets, pulling his head back to shake her grip from his curls. She mumbled gently and rolled over onto her back, not waking.

Jane left the bedroom, still limpy. He considered filling the prescription for painkillers he received at the hospital the day before but that would involve finding a 24 hour chemist, seeing as it was - he checked his watch - 4:24am presently, and that seemed like a lot of effort. So, instead, he showered, putting on fresh clothes, a subtly different-patterned shirt to the one he'd just removed. He rolled up the sleeves, forgoing a belt with his clean trousers and opted to remain barefoot.

Room service started at 5, and shortly thereafter he was devouring eggs and sipping tea while reading the newspaper. A distraction, while he figured out what was meant to happen today. Yesterday was like a fantasy. Both wrapped in a bubble of silliness, and as they'd dealt with their inhibitions with more and more alcohol as the night wore on, everything became a bit fluffy and funny and hazy, dreamlike and wonderful. But today? Well today there was sobriety of multiple kinds, and Jane wasn't certain Teresa wouldn't come to her senses and leave him.  
He mindlessly tore up the financial pages of the paper, folding and twisting strips of newspaper into the shapes of flowers, before looping them together, feeding one into the next, interlocked in a circle.

Another hour, maybe two, passed, and Patrick grew restless waiting for Teresa to wake up, maybe throw him out of the hotel room. No, she wouldn't do that, but in the harsh light of a new day...  
He called down to room service again, had them send up peppermint tea and some extra strong coffee, a blueberry muffin, fruit salad and three poppyseed bagels. He pushed the cart with his acquired bounty into the bedroom, refusing to linger in the doorway. If he stopped and thought about it too hard he would lose his nerve, slink back out to the sofa. Removing the mug of coffee from the tray, he put it on Lisbon's bedside table and fetched the three bagels before clambering up on the bed beside her curled form. She was facing away from him and he sat next to her atop the bedding.

"If you insist!" he announced.  
Lisbon's eyes fluttered open, focusing on the coffee in front of her. "What?"  
"I know. It seemed weird to me too," he agreed conversationally, patting Lisbon's shoulder.  
Lisbon rolled onto her back. It was much too early for Jane to be... Jane. "What?", she repeated. He looked especially cheerful, sitting cross legged with pastry foods in his hands.  
"Are you watching? Because there's no point me doing this if you're not watching. I'm doing this for you, you know. I'm not a hot and cold running performing monkey, you know."  
"Jane. Have you gone insane? What time is it?"  
"Almost 8. Now watch." He tossed the three bagels high into the air, one after the other, in a slow loping figure eight shape before catching them deftly with the opposing hand, sending them back into the air.  
Lisbon groaned. "Seriously, Jane."  
"It's not really my specialty, but anybody can do it. Don't worry, you'll be a juggling maestro in no time." He tossed one bagel particularly high in the air from behind his back and then caught it in his mouth. "Ta-da!", muffled around so much dough, he grinned.  
Lisbon smiled back at him, his obnoxiousness playfully charming, damn him, and she reached for her coffee as he devoured chunks of bagel.  
"I think my hands are too small to learn to juggle with bagels."  
"Mmm," he thought this through. "Perhaps, but if I had brought you balls to play with you'd accuse me of spouting innuendo."


	5. Chapter 5

After Lisbon returned from the bathroom, Jane ushered her back into bed. For breakfast purposes, he said. His hand lingered on her back, stroking the nightgown. She climbed underneath the bedspread, he remained on top, reclining against the pillows. He sipped his cup of peppermint tea, savouring it. Lisbon nibbled on fruit salad and one of the juggle-bagels. There were poppyseeds everywhere. Lisbon didn't notice them until Jane pushed open the drapes, letting the morning sun in. He stood with his arms wide open, face almost pressed against the window, wincing when he accidentally rocked back on his injury.

"How's your ankle?"  
"Don't pretend you care all of a sudden. You couldn't handle this kind of pain."  
Lisbon's voice got high, "I once discharged myself from the hospital against medical advice to visit you when you were in jail. And I had been shot!"  
"Meh. I have it on good authority you were faking."  
"Right. I faked being shot."  
"Sure. That too." Jane turned around, leaned his back against the window.  
She bit back a grin, "What are we going to do today?", popping half a strawberry into her mouth.  
Jane winked in reply.  
"Besides that."  
"You mean after that?" Jane was an unrepentant flirt. Teresa sort of knew this about him already. He used his good looks and charm to get an endless stream of murder suspects to open up to him without even knowing they were doing so, but this was different. This was overtures directed at her, foreign and thrilling, but it was false bravado hiding genuine fear, and she knew it. And Jane knew she knew it. And she knew Jane knew she knew it. And- down the rabbit hole they go.

What she didn't know, and was curious to find out, was what would happen if she challenged him, pushed him a little. Last night she was a bit wary, unsure of the speed, or however these things were supposed to go. Today though? Today she was... well. Digging him.  
"We're going to have to drive back to Texas, did Abbott tell you?"  
"Something about me being on a no-fly list. I'm dangerous. A menace to society."  
"I've been telling this to anybody who will listen for years.", she deadpanned.  
"Who knows how many people are now safe from my sincere declarations of devotion."  
"You truly are the anti-hero that nobody wants and nobody needs. When do you wanna head back? I'm driving."  
Jane grimaced at this. "Uh, I don't know, tomorrow maybe? And, also? Not happening. We'll be lapped by slow-moving sea turtles."  
"And we'll all live happily ever after obeying the speed limits and not breaking the law like the _law enforcement officers _that we are."  
Jane fetched his muffin from the tray near the door. "I like that you choose to live life on the wild side. Ooooh, we should buy some flashy police lights and a siren on the internet! Let's googlify that."  
"Googlif-? Never mind. Besides, it's illegal."  
"So is jaywalking but you do that all the time."  
"No, I don't!" Lisbon protested, a little too quickly. A subject change was necessary before he started listing off her transgressions. "Are you coming back to bed?"

Jane froze where he stood in front of the window, mouth paused mid-muffin chew, before swallowing. His eyes narrowed, focusing on Teresa. She sat up in bed, gulping a mouthful of coffee, her messy hair spilling in every direction. Her eyes were clear green, bold, though her underlying expression told him she was nervous he was going to reject her. Huh. As if he ever would.

So he made his way back over to his side of the bed, sat on the edge, put the remaining half of his muffin on the bedside table. Jane wanted to reach for her, lie down, pull her flush against him, on top of him maybe, and invade her mouth with his tongue. Considered doing it. Shivered pleasurably at the thought. Not so easy now he was sober though.

Lisbon sensed Jane's fear and if anything was going to happen she was going to have to stop waiting for him to put the moves on her, that much was obvious to both of them. She crawled across the bed to where he was sitting, gazing at the sunshine dancing across the nearby ocean several stories below. Kneeling behind him, she snaked her right arm across his stomach, feeling upwards along his chest. She leaned forward to kiss his throat, unknowingly the same spot Sleep Lisbon had worried at. Her hand fisted in his shirt below the collar.

Patrick groaned, swivelled the top half of his body around until he found her lips with his. The kiss was sweet, more longing with a sense of promise than passionate.  
He paused suddenly, mid lip-lock, and against her mouth mumbled, "Sex is always better on a couch."  
Teresa replied, lips still pressed to Jane's: "Is that what you think we're doing?"  
Jane pulled away, stood up. Lisbon reluctantly released him from her grasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looked at the floor before directing his gaze, up, up the side of the bed, to Teresa's knees. With an intake of breath he let his eyes travel further north, pausing on her hips where the flimsy plum nightgown clung to her, the shape of her underwear beneath obvious to his gaze before allowing it to travel across her stomach to pause on her breasts. The sleepwear stretched over her feminine mounds. They looked unbelievably soft and enticing and he could see the faint outlines of her nipples underneath. Lisbon's pulse sped up and she sat backwards on her heels. Nobody had ever looked at her the way Jane was looking at her. He was in awe, unconsciously licking his lips and continued his visual travels to her mouth. He found her natural pout intriguing and after locking his gaze with hers, his desire mirrored in her. Self control was something he prided himself on, a code he had forced himself lived by, but at that moment in time, he discovered he had none. And that was fine by him.

Before she even knew what was happening, Patrick had lunged for Lisbon, pushing her shoulders down flat against the mattress. He kneeled over her, straddling her hips with his own and she balled her hands in his shirt, pulling him down on top of her. Tearing both her small hands away from him with one of his much larger ones, he pinned both her wrists against the mattress above her head. Grasping her chin, her neck, her hair with the other hand, Jane probed her gasping mouth with his hot tongue. He darted it deeply in, eased back out, swiped it across her bottom lip, listened to her breath catch before delving in again. And again. He repeated the motion several times, tongue out, tasting her lips, memorising how they felt before plunging back in again, lips and breath hot against her own. It was heavenly.

"Patrick..." Teresa managed around his probing tongue. He moaned in response, oral aerobics unceasing, his free hand traveling down her throat, fingertips only, brushing gently down to cup her breast, running his thumb over the nipple. He hadn't closed his eyes. Teresa had, but Jane hadn't, desperate to watch her, needing to watch her. She gasped at his touch, writhed underneath him. Patrick slowed his kisses then, pulled his tongue out of her mouth. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and his hand traveled to her other breast, featherlight, fingers caressing the nipple, feeling it harden at the sensation. His erection hardened too, far from the focus of his attention, though he did choose that moment to press his hips against hers so she could feel the effect she had on him.

The resulting combined strangled groan was enough for him to abandon her mouth, press his lips against her throat, tongue darting out in a thorough exploration to determine where exactly would make her shiver in response. Lisbon tried to catch her breath but it was a losing battle, really. She struggled her arms free from Jane's loose hold on them and grabbed both sides of his face, dragging him up so they were nose to nose. He rested his weight on his forearms either side of her head and grinned down at her, panting, cockier than he thought he'd be. He'd never seen Lisbon turned on before and it was a, well, a turn on.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?!", Lisbon demanded to know. She was flushed, breathing heavily, eyes black.  
"I practice on my mirror every night before I fall asleep", came the swift reply. "Wait. Did you think I was a eunuch?"  
She glanced down to where his groin was pressed against her. "Well, if I did before I certainly don't now."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I didn't know how valuable reviews were until I wrote a story of my own and now I have to go track down every story I've ever read in my life and write some. I mean. I could do that. Or I could finish this chapter instead.  
Thank you to everybody who is reading. I had no idea, I thought maybe a dozen people might read my story if I was lucky but according to the stats hundreds of people from ALL OVER THE WORLD have read my extraordinarily silly banter. That is humbling for a first-time writer. It's been a fun couple of days. :) Aaaaand I'm super embarrassed.  
So, THIS chapter? Probably M rated. We can find out together once I start typing. I don't have a plan. Something about knowing when it feels right and letting that be our guide...

"Lisbon."  
"Yeah?"  
"Let's go for a walk."  
"_Now?_", she squeaked, a hand gesturing lamely at their current, uh, closeness.  
"It's a beautiful day. Birds are probably singing the songs of their people and we are missing it."  
"You do realise it will probably still be beautiful in a couple of hours?"  
"Yeah, well maybe, but, uh, well, I hadn't really thought this through."  
Lisbon's hands wavered in their exploration of his back, his stomach. She had been itching to unbutton his far from masculine floral shirt, run her hands along his bare skin, but his seeming rejection furrowed her brow.

"Okay, well _that_ certainly came out wrong," Jane sat back on his heels, pelvises still dangerously close. His erection was fairly uncomfortable, should've worn looser slacks, rookie mistake. "I meant, and take note I was trying to be casually suave about it and you blew it for me, but I meant that I don't have condoms. So, there's that."  
Jane had the grace to look sheepish. Lisbon had the grace not to roll her eyes, before reaching up with both hands and undoing three buttons on his shirt.  
"I'm on the pill." She ran her fingers under his shirt, across his chest. The muscles weren't defined; he was too much a fan of napping and nachos, and she tugged on a wispy bit of chest hair.  
"I know," sliding a thumb along her chin.  
Of course he did, how annoying. "So?"  
"You haven't had time or opportunity to take it this morning yet."  
"Your powers of observation fail you then, because I take it in the evenings. Which I did. Last night."  
"Huh", he mused. "Every day at 7pm."  
She huffed, but continued with the shirt removal, undoing the rest of his buttons. "How could you _possibly_ know that?!"  
"Daily reminder in your phone. I had surmised it was to remind you to feed orphans and bathe puppies. Which is silly, in retrospect, because as if you'd need a reminder to do what comes naturally."  
Her hands across his torso were having the intended effect, goosebumps appeared across his belly and she reached up to stroke over his nipples. He extended a hand underneath him, touched her knee before trailing his fingers up along her inner thigh beneath the hem of her nightgown. Lisbon parted her knees just slightly to increase his access before pinching one of his nipples hard. Jane yelped, not at all manly.  
"Ouch. What?"  
"It's not okay that you went through my phone."  
"Okay, fine, but use your words, woman. Assaulting me isn't going to undo what's already been done."  
"Maybe not, but you squeal like a girl and it's funny."

Jane ran his fingers higher, silky touches up her inner thigh. He studied her face as his fingertips grazed her underwear. Cotton, he couldn't see what colour, but they were damp and she mewled wantonly when he insistently pushed his index finger against them, against her core.  
"A-ha!" he announced triumphantly, rotating his finger in very small circles.  
Her head was thrown back, all messy hair and heavy breathing and soft whimpering, "Oh God. What?"  
"I can make you squeal like a girl too."

He flopped onto the mattress beside her, tracing the contours of her folds with one hand and pushing her sleepwear up with the other. Without looking, he mentally tried to guess her underwear colour. Definitely no-nonsense black, had to be. So he was pleasantly surprised to be wrong, to discover they were a soft pastel pink adorned with cartoon ladybugs.  
"I love you." He did.  
"Why, what have you done wrong now?" His intimate ministrations made it difficult for her to concentrate but she opened her eyes to find him happy-staring at her.  
"When have I ever done anything wrong? Don't answer that."  
He deftly, quickly, removed her underwear and held them up for her to see. "I am keeping these."  
"You are not."  
"I'm not giving them back."  
"I don't think they're your size..."  
"Not to wear, Teresa. I'm feeling inspired. I'm thinking of getting into scrapbooking. Will dedicate an entire page to them. A series of pages. Maybe the whole book, I'm not sure yet. Remind me to buy glitter."

Infuriating was what he was. Silly and charming and ridiculously attractive. And he was hers. Lisbon had a retort in mind, something about cutting up his shoes to make an abstract art sculpture for her desk, but Jane chose that moment to invade her core with a finger and her mouth with his tongue. Her hips undulated at the sudden intrusion and he inserted a second finger, felt for her clitoris with his thumb. He found it swollen, aching and as he rubbed slowly, gauging her reaction, she hissed and bit his tongue. Eyes closed, she reached to unfasten his trousers, slipped a hand inside, traced him gently. Tongue back in his own mouth for the moment, he gazed down at her.  
"Mmm. No. Not yet. I'm busy. I won't be able to concentrate." He removed her hand from his pants and placed it on her breast, leaning down to suck the nipple of her other breast through her silken nightgown. It was bunched at her waist, needed to come off really, but he was distracted, focusing on his fingers inside of her and the changes in her pulse and breathing and facial expressions when he moved them, changed the depth or the angle. He continued to stroke her clitoris, and Lisbon found the sensation overwhelming.

"Jane..."  
"I'm busy."  
"Of course you are." Her breath hitched when he thrust his fingers into her quickly, deeply, before slowing to a lazy stroke. She ghosted her fingers down his stomach, towards his groin and he gave her a scolding look.  
"Wait. I'll be done in a minute."  
"And what exactly is it you think you're doing?" Breathless, dying to touch him.  
"Calibrating."  
"You are not."  
"Not if you keep distracting me."  
"Jane."  
"Right. Good." He stilled his hand, fingers still buried inside her. With his free hand, he helped her remove her clothing entirely and immediately forgot what he was going to say as he gazed upon her nude form. Several beats passed, he hadn't moved and with his thumb still putting pressure on her most sensitive spot, Teresa was getting very hot and she squirmed, to dislodge him or to encourage him to continue, she wasn't sure.  
"Jane."  
He snapped out of his trance and his face spread with a dazzling smile. "We're never letting you put clothes on again." His voice was raspy. Lisbon wiggled her hips.  
"Jane."  
"Yes. Good thinking, Lisbon. Here it is. If I give you an orgasm, you have to call me Patrick whenever a part of my body is inside a part of yours."  
"Jane..."  
"Fingers or tongue? Either will get the job done."  
"Dammit, Jane."

He opted for fingers, needing to watch her face. Jane knew she was close, slippery and grasping, very welcoming. The things he wanted to do to her. His fingers slid deeply, his thumb circling, pressing. She was gasping and he kissed her throat, running his tongue along her collarbone. Arching her back sensually, Teresa felt herself building up, up higher, so very high and tight and she dragged Jane's face up by his chin, kissing him deeply. She came apart then, his talented fingers so, so good and so very bad. Her internal contractions were strong, each one drawing out a very throaty, "Ohhh" from her oval shaped mouth. They slowly faded to a pleasurable ache. Jane watched her face over the next couple of minutes as she slowly came back to earth. When she was ready, she opened her eyes. He was grinning, triumphant, but she could see the awe as well.  
"Jane."  
"Mmm?"  
"Could you _be_ more cocky?"  
"I absolutely can do that if you'd like. Anything for you, Lisbon. You did promise to call me Patrick now." He gently pulled his fingers away. They were moist and he ran them along the undersides of her breasts.  
"I didn't. I'll call you whatever I want, Jane."  
"You can. But if you do that then I will refer to you only as 'princess' once we get back to work. It's your choice."

Lisbon kissed Jane sweetly before delving a hand down his trousers and grasping him tightly. He groaned.  
"I can't battle your wits when you do that."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter is decidedly, unabashedly, M rated, and the world is now a better place for it. Did I say better? I meant sexier.

That was the truth. He really couldn't. Think. When she touched him. Patrick genuinely had no idea how much he had desired her, had never let himself feel before. And now that he had? Well. He'd lost the ability to speak. Which put a significant crimp in his distract-with-banter seduction method. Eh. She was the one doing the seducing, really. Teresa tugged on his shirttail, a silent command for him to remove it completely and he complied, flinging it away, they didn't care where. He lay back down again, and Lisbon pressed her body into his side

He breathed slowly, deeply. One arm was flung over his face, covering his eyes. Lisbon kissed gently along his jawline, both hands inside his pale blue cotton boxer briefs. One was wrapped around the base of his shaft, squeezing, the other delicately exploring his testes, soft, hot fingers enjoying their fullness. God, Jane was in agony. Blissful agony. The best kind.

"Jane."  
No response.  
"Jane?"  
Still as the dead. She bit his earlobe. He shivered. Not dead after all.  
"Jane."  
His breathing was slow, laboured. Very controlled. Too controlled. This wouldn't do. She loosened her grip, ran her palm up and over the slippery head. He groaned. Couldn't help it.  
"Jane?"  
"Can't talk. Mentally reciting the lyrics to We Didn't Start the Fire."  
"You are a very strange man."  
"I've been told this. Billy Joel lists Nixon twice, kinda seems like cheating." He was mumbling, not really aware he'd even spoken.  
"I need you to take off your pants", she whispered in his ear.  
He raised his hips and she had him completely undressed in no time, her hands returning to the job at, er, hand. His length was nice, Teresa marveled at how it curved up to press against his belly. His thickness was nicer though. She wanted to ride him and tugged his arm away from his face so she could see his eyes, his expression.

Jane stared at the ceiling. Not really though, because he wasn't seeing anything.

"You're pretty, you know," she told him.  
"I know."  
"Oh good. You're modest too."  
She ran her thumb back and forth over the slit at the top, earning herself a generous seeping of fluid. His eyes rolled back and he swallowed thickly.  
"At this moment in time, Teresa, I'm whatever you want me to be."  
Lisbon had an urge to taste him, put him in her mouth, and she kissed wetly down his stomach.  
"If you do that, I won't last," Jane warned her, feeling everything and seeing nothing.

For another time then. Teresa straddled him instead, guiding his hardness inside of her. It suddenly struck her how real this all was. That she was as intimate as somebody can be with another person, and that other person was Patrick Jane. He groaned as she rode him slowly, deeply, hands on his chest. Her body was learning how to accommodate his. He continued to stare off into space.  
"Hey. Where are you?", Lisbon asked.  
Jane blinked several times, vision returning. He gazed dreamily at Teresa, a loving smile graced his features. His pupils were dilated and his breathing ragged.  
"Cat got your tongue?" she asked, dragging his hands onto his breasts. He played with her nipples.  
"A cat? I can make pussy jokes if that's what you want but it seems a bit crass, Lisbon. We are colleagues, after all; it's kind of inappropriate. Did you learn nothing at that FBI mandatory sexual harassment seminar?" He was babbling, really.  
"No, you're absolutely right. It's better when you don't speak." Lisbon kissed him, one hand wound through his hair. His tongue explored her mouth.

Jane didn't last long. Hot and wet and oh, the way she moaned as she moved on him, it was all too much, so much, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him as he emptied himself deep inside of her.

They stayed like that for a long time. Arms wrapped around each other, perspiration mingling. Their breathing evened out and Jane began to chuckle. He grinned up her smugly, ran his fingers through her hair.  
"If you're about to gloat about your conquest, I will punch you in the nose."  
"I know." He continued to beam at her.  
"So you're not going to then?"  
"Uh. Well. In an unrelated question, are you able to teach me how to set up one of those blog things? I think the world needs to read about... um. I'll probably write about ponies. Maybe meerkats. Definitely not mindblowing sex. Nobody reads that stuff."


	8. Chapter 8

Lisbon's face was buried in Jane's chest. All he could see when he looked at her was messy hair and he idly traced patterns on her back with his fingertips. They were atop the bedding, sideways across the bed still.  
Jane was pretty sure he'd be able to go again. And he wanted to. He hadn't known for sure that he could do it. Consummate his relationship with Lisbon. He had had sex exactly one time previously since his wife had died. And it was nothing. He'd felt nothing that time. It was business only; the culmination of six months of undercover investigating, and he'd switched his mind off to do it.

It wasn't like that this time. He had felt everything, experienced everything. And he wasn't nearly done discovering what he could do to her. Or what she could do to him.

He kissed her mop of unruly hair, shifting so she could better feel his stirring erection pressing into her.

"You have obliterated my self control, woman.", he told her hair.  
She grinned into his chest, fidgeting with one of his nipples. "I'm okay with that."

She lapped at his other nipple, hot tongue on sweaty skin.

Jane whimpered. He was so easy, responsive to her every touch. Lisbon reveled in her achievements. What she could do to him. He was perfect. It was her turn to be smug and she gave him a boastful smile.

"I'm glad I amuse you", Jane grinned back.

Lisbon's hand slid down his chest, circling his belly button before skimming his pubic hair.

And then her phone rang.

They both groaned simultaneously, and not in a good way. Lisbon dismounted Jane, deaf to his protests to ignore it.

Abbott was on the line. She wrapped the bedspread around herself and sat on the edge of the bed.  
Abbott wanted to discuss undoing her transfer to D.C.. Lisbon wanted to discuss having some time off to find a new place to live as she settled back into Texas. And Jane? He wanted to discuss what shade of pink Lisbon's nipples were. He whispered various colours in her ear. Carnation, coral, rose, salmon, magenta...  
Definitely rose, he decided.

Lisbon gave Jane a shove, and he sighed. Reluctantly he hopped off the bed - literally, he was an injured man, after all - and began dressing. He tucked Lisbon's very cute underwear into his trouser pocket when she wasn't looking and made his way out to the living space where he'd left the origami daisy chain he'd made out of newspaper earlier that morning.

He returned to the bedroom, chain in hand. Lisbon was pacing, discussing the mountains of paperwork she was going to have to fill out in order to re-transfer back to her old job. It sounded tedious and dull and Jane didn't have the constitution to deal with that. Teresa looked divine, her professional demeanour having taken over, contrasting with the very unclothed situation she was currently in. She barely acknowledged him. Work was her mistress.

Jane waited until she paced over in his general direction before he tugged at the bedspread that she was using as a shawl. It came loose immediately and he flung it away, out of her reach. She scowled at him but continued her phone conversation, not missing a beat.

Lisbon paced the length of the room, not bothering to cover herself. She knew Jane's eyes were admiring her backside, and if it kept him quiet for a minute, then that was fine by her.

Jane grew restless waiting for her to end the call and he moved to stand in front of her, stopping her mid-pace, before gracefully dropping the daisy chain he'd just removed from his pocket over her head. It fell around her throat. Every flower was a delicate rose, each unique, unbelievably beautiful, despite the newsprint. Lisbon ran her fingers over the roses and without warning, Jane whisked her phone out of her hand.

Abbott was talking; Jane pressed the phone to his ear. Lisbon tried snatching the phone back but Jane was too quick. And too obnoxious. She put her hands on her hips; very angry, very naked.

"...and I'm happy to give Jane the two weeks off too. For professional reasons only, obviously. You can tell him if you see him. I plan on calling him later. He seems to work best when he has you to keep him in line.", Abbott was saying.  
"It's true,", Jane agreed, telling the phone. "Without Lisbon's guiding hands I can never reach my pinnacle."  
He grinned sunnily at Lisbon. She did not return his smile; all scowls, all the time.  
"Lisbon has to go, Abbott. She is very, very naked." Jane hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.

"I cannot believe you just did that!", she hissed.  
"You can, actually. I know you can, because you've met me before." He was so casual; unfazed.  
Lisbon_ was _fazed, on the other hand. "You don't get to mess with my career."  
"Meh. It was Abbott. He's a romantic. And the patron saint of our budding relationship."  
He reached for her but she shrugged away, grabbing her suitcase.  
"I'm going to have a shower," she said, not looking at him.  
Lisbon stalked out of the room, fuming. Jane appreciated the view, despite the fact they were having their first lovers' quarrel.

Standing was no longer a viable option for Jane at this point; his ankle was killing him. The ER doctor the previous day said it was one of the worst sprains he'd ever seen and that Jane should keep off it for at least a month. He had crutches; they were dumped at the door. He'd dropped them there the previous night before he'd kissed Teresa against the wall. He didn't really want to use them though, and fetched his now-cold cup of tea and limped his way to the couch, pausing briefly at the bathroom door to listen to the sound of water slapping against the shower tiles.

Were he bolder, he'd have climbed into the shower with her. His bravado didn't quite extend that far.

Lisbon was mad at him; Jane had some calls to make.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. You've been a big help and you've boosted my confidence. A special thanks to the guest reviewers, I can't PM you directly! (Also, Google translate assures me the review in Portuguese is favourable haha. obrigado!). You're wonderful. I've spent this past week feeling happy and accomplished. I'm never happy and I never achieve anything. It's been pretty great.  
Thanks to everybody reading. :)

Jane didn't know how to use Siri. Which was unfortunate because that would have helped immensely. What was fortunate, however, was that he was Patrick Jane, who absolutely _did _know how to use charm, and he called down to hotel reception instead to flirt shamelessly with the, from what he could gather, 28-30 year old, 5'2"-5'3", overweight, bespectacled, overqualified, middle-child, deepseated daddy issue plagued, Ohio-born, obsessed with Disney, woman who answered the phone. She was only too eager to do that Google thing on his behalf.

Ten minutes later he was armed with a plan and a half dozen memorised phone numbers. Lisbon was still in the shower. Likely the water was scalding and she was scowling, tense and angry. Jane knew he'd messed up. Knew he'd taken a risk intercepting her excruciatingly, mindnumbingly dull phone call that made him want to tear his fingernails out, but he had done it anyway. Getting laid changes a man, probably, he mused. And Lisbon was hot when she was mad. He'd always known that, but now? Now he was allowed to admit it, actually enjoy it.

Which was maybe a bit twisted. Especially considering he wasn't certain he hadn't just screwed up their very new romantic relationship already. Could he have? Hmm. Nah. She'd forgiven him for way worse. Convinced her she was dying once. Heh. They weren't a couple then though. If that's what they were now.

He'd called her his girlfriend the previous night. Well, kind of. But he was drunk and she was drunk and they both ignored it. It was probably way too soon for that anyway. Or way too late. Do people their age consider themselves boyfriend and girlfriend?

In any case, he put his plan in motion, made some calls.

Painkillers were going to be necessary, though. His ankle throbbed and he examined it closely. It was a spectacular purple colour and there was an egg-bulge, swelling and tendons that had been overstretched and not gone back into position yet. Ouch. Jane was soft when it came to physical pain.

He gingerly donned some clean socks and then his shoes, though that hurt a fair bit. A lot. Low pain threshold. His biggest nemesis. Followed closely by uncomfortable chairs and oversteeped tea. Or, tea made by Rigsby.

Lisbon was moving about in the bathroom now. He heard a drawer slam. Hmm. Still angry. Some kind of serious discussion was probably going to need to take place, but he didn't really want to. He knew what he did wrong already. Is that how relationships work? He couldn't really remember, intentionally tried to bury that stuff a long time ago. Origami probably not the solution?

Ahh. Right. Honesty. One of the things Lisbon prided above most things. And one of the things he wasn't so great at. Well. He can try that. Not as much fun as paper folding though. Maybe she'd enjoy an origami glock that shoots paperclips...

Sipping his tea, Jane didn't turn around at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Cold tea was not really his thing, but it was better than no tea and he always felt better with a cup in his hand.

Lisbon lingered in the bathroom doorway, steam billowing, escaping around her. She wore a black pantsuit with a blue shirt, had left her damp hair loose, curling. Looped three times around her right wrist was the rose-daisy chain-thing some jackass had made for her. The hot water had washed away some of her anger. Jane was, well, he was being himself really. Time spent under the cascading water convinced her to cut him some slack. Some. He still deserved a punch in the nose. She was unsure if Jane would still be there when she emerged; it'd be just like him to take off. Her gaze fell on the back of Jane's head over the backrest of the sofa. Still here. Jerk. His hair looked arrogant. Probably not possible, but it really did. Self righteous tousled swoops and curls. Ah. Well then. Still angry.

"I can feel you frowning from here," Jane said, staring forward. "You might as well come here and be annoyed at me close up rather than hesitating over there."  
"Don't you dare act like I'm overreacting." She crossed her arms.  
"I'm not, and you're not," he turned his head to look at her. "Won't you sit?"

She did. Instead of the couch she chose the matching armchair opposite.

"Look, I'm sorry.", Jane began. "I. Uh, I mean. Sorry. I... got impatient and you were attractive, are attractive, and now you're mine and I wanted to-, um. And that may have resulted in inappropriate innuendo and public assertions of your nudity. To your boss." Jane paused. "You know, this sounds really bad now I'm saying it out loud."


	10. Chapter 10

"It sounds bad because it is bad..."  
Lisbon gave Jane a stern look, but his apology and sheepish expression had softened her. Inside. Dammit, was she a pushover for him. She kind of wanted to see him grovel a bit though. Jane apologies were not a common occurrence; this was a bit fun for her.

"Yes. I can see why you'd be displeased."  
He fidgeted with his wedding ring. An unconscious action, though he halted immediately when he realised what he was doing. Symbolism or whatever, Jane didn't want to think about it, and he certainly didn't want Lisbon to think about it. Too late on both accounts.  
"Shall we go exploring? Some place that is not a hotel room? If we're leaving tomorrow morning we should make the most of it." Jane rose to his feet, carefully.

"Do you have somewhere in mind?" Lisbon asked.  
"I do."

Lisbon waited for Jane to elaborate. He stared back at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't tell me then, whatever you do. What if I had somewhere I wanted to go? Did you even think to ask me?" She pursed her lips.  
"Yes, sorry, Lisbon. I didn't. Do you have somewhere you want to go?"  
"That's besides the point."  
Jane reached for her hand, tugged her to her feet.

"Lisbon. Where we are going? There's lollipops and couples holding hands. Trust me, you're going to love it."

xxxxxxxx

Lisbon held a strawberry lollipop in her hand and watched as the older gentleman in front of her gently grasped his frail wife's hand to help steady her. The pharmacy was busy and Jane had left Lisbon holding his place in the queue while he wandered around the store doing God only knows what. She had insisted he use the crutches and he had already made a spectacle of himself knocking over a soap display. Lisbon pretended not know him then.

Jane reappeared just before they were ready to be served, crutches under his armpits, a box of much-needed painkillers in hand.  
"Hi, honey, I was wondering where you'd been!" Lisbon greeted him with a friendly pat on the arm. She spoke a little too loudy and a lot too cheerfully. Jane's eyes narrowed. "I had a look for you, Patrick darling, but they don't have your favourite brand of hemorrhoid cream. Sorry, sweetheart."  
An older couple behind them in the queue exchanged glances, smirks.

Jane smiled broadly, sunnily. "I adore you", was all he said.

xxxxxxxx

They sat on a bench overlooking the ocean and ate overloaded, messy hotdogs. The park they were in lay just above the coast and the trees were beautiful, tranquil, tangling down to reach the shore. There were walking paths through the brush, leading to some very pretty clearings and trails leading down to the sand. Summer was on its way, the air was warm.

Sunlight sparkled through the fresh spring leaves, draping their faces with shifting sunbeams. The painkillers combined with the reluctant use of crutches had eased some of Jane's achiness, though the medication had seemingly made him a bit loopy. Er, loopier than usual, as he declared he was going to write a book of poems about Lisbon's eyes. In Spanish. Because it's a more romantic language, Lisbon, obviously.

A man walked past with a lamb on a leash. Jane tried to explain that while 'green as the colour of a glass beer bottle' sounded, well, it sounded like you were comparing her eyes to a beer bottle, but in Spanish, well, transparent alcoholic containers just sounded like magic.

A woman sauntered by leading two baby llamas by their harnesses. She carried a piglet under one arm. Verde coma una botella de cerveza de cristal, Jane announced with a flourish. How pretty does that sound, Teresa?!

A teenage boy passed by Jane and Lisbon's bench pushing a stroller. Six puppies peered over the edge, noses twitching, ears alert to any possible sounds. Three ducklings sat on top of the puppies, fuzzy and soft, looking for somewhere to nap. Jane, amusing himself, began to describe the second book of poems he would publish, this one about Lisbon's lips.

"What's going on?" Lisbon was guarded, quizzical.  
"I'm trying to woo you with romance."  
"Beer bottles are not romantic."  
"Eh", he dismissed with the wave of a hand. "You say that about everything."  
"You're telling me you didn't see the animals...?" She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't hallucinating and craned her neck in the direction the animals had come from, only to see a second teenage boy, younger than the first, encouraging a very young foal to follow him. The boy carried a small cage containing a half dozen peeping chicks.

"What animals?" Jane feigned innocence.  
"Jane."  
"Oh, those animals? Petting zoo, around the bend, behind those trees there." He gestured vaguely beyond the foliage, heavy brush obscuring the clearing beyond.  
Lisbon stared at him. "There just happens to be a petting zoo in the middle of a park near the beach in Florida right when we're here?"  
"Mmm. Strange, right? We should investigate."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: That really is some arrogant hair, guys.  
I'm resisting the urge to delve into the farcical, though I could and it would be fun for me and I really want to...

Lisbon laughed when it licked her; she'd taken a liking to the llamas.

Jane sat on an upturned feedbucket, absently tossing feed to some roosters. He was mostly watching Lisbon. Openly staring, really. They were inside a little fenced off enclosure in the middle of the clearing in the middle of the park overlooking the ocean. Jane's wasn't noticing the scenery though. The waves looked especially glorious that day, the way the sunlight danced across them, glittering, the shimmering, shining splendour. The lush foliage surrounding them, enveloping them, hiding them and their menagerie of baby farm animals away from the world. Jane saw none of that.

He saw Lisbon's hands though, as they stroked the baby llama's velvety nose and scratched behind its ears.

There were children. They had materialised like so much magic at the sight of the animals and though it was intended to be a private moment, just the two of them and the farm animals, how could Jane deny children from getting in on the animal feeding action? The family who owned the animals, a couple and their two teenage sons, were amiable and though the husband had tried making small talk with Jane, he was far too engaged in his staring. A small boy squealed with utter joy when the lamb ate from his hand. Jane could stay here forever.

The older teenage son approached Lisbon then, a bit awkward and unsure.  
"Are you Teresa?" he asked her. The boy was shy. Jane empathised; he remembered what it was like talking to attractive women when he was that age.  
Lisbon stopped patting the llama.

"Yes. I'm Teresa. Can I help you?" The boy had her attention. Jane's too, as he paused in his chicken feeding to watch what happened next.

"Um. Hi. Someone called Jane paid my folks an extra hundred bucks if we'd tell you, uh...", the boy shuffled a bit, tentative.  
"Your friend Jane wants you to know she's sorry and she won't tell anybody else about you being naked with your boss."

The teenager, embarrassed, scurried away quickly to tend to the growing horde of small children wanting feed for the animals. Jane was giggling. Actually giggling. Lisbon had her hands on his hips, eyes blazing.

"Seriously?", she intoned, mostly in disbelief.

Jane laughed some more. "That wasn't the message, exactly. Close enough. I like this one so much more, let's run with it." His eyes crinkled and his face hurt from smiling so hard. He was so happy. This was the best day.  
"This is the best day."

"You are the worst." Lisbon scratched underneath the llama's chin. It closed its eyes in bliss and stretched its neck.

"I'm not! I got you llamas."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The gigantic tank in front of them was filled with jellyfish. Hundreds and hundreds of small jellyfish, glowing and reflecting and pulsing and floating, propelling themselves gently, elegantly. The aquarium was dark and atmospheric, intimate. Quiet, and Jane and Lisbon could barely see each other through the dimness. The tank had a blue background and fluorescent lights to illuminate the translucent jelly creatures. They glowed pink and green, the coloured lights shining through them, so pretty and soothing.

The petting zoo had been incredibly entertaining and Jane was talking about getting Lisbon her own llama. But now, Jane had dragged Lisbon to some flashy touristy aquarium. It was tacky, maybe, and very possibly exploitative. There seemed to be whales and things but he really only wanted to see the jellyfish. Wanted to show Lisbon the jellyfish.

Hours, weeks even, of Jane's life had been spent transfixed by South American jellyfish. Jane had spent much of his time in Venezuela admiring the sea life. The jellies were his favourite. He'd written about them in great detail in his letters to Lisbon.

Lisbon had one hand pressed against the massive tank. She watched the glowing animals gently propel themselves. Jane's jellyfish letters has been so... romantic? He had written with zest and meaning and genuine enthusiasm and because they mattered to him, they mattered to her too.

"They create their own electricity. Just a little spark. So they can glow.", said Jane. He was entranced. He slumped down onto his crutches where he stood.  
"Mostly red, I think. The ones I saw. But sometimes yellow and green and blue."

She put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her instead. Lisbon was prettier than jellyfish any day.

Lisbon was a traditionalist when it came to things she found romantic: flowers, chocolate, cuddling.  
Things Jane finds romantic: socks; juggling; beer bottles; llamas; jellyfish. That deserves an eye roll if ever anything did. A relationship with Jane had no chance of being traditional. Lisbon wrapped her arm around Jane's bicep. He gave her a lopsided grin. She found herself disavowing all things normal. She had him.

"Why do they glow?" she found herself asking.

"They're clear. And they reproduce sexually. Asexually too, I think, I dunno. But they're clear, so it makes it hard to find a mate. Because even jellyfish need love. So they flash colours at each other, it's like Morse code. And when they find each other? They dance." Jane was intense. He looked down at Lisbon, his eyes dark.

"You brought me all this way to show me horny jellyfish?"

"Mmm. Not just that." The jellyfish were forgotten. Jane kissed Lisbon, gently, sweetly. He couldn't touch her; his hands grasped his crutches, steadying himself. And boy, did he want to touch her.

Lisbon touched him instead. Nobody was around; there was a sea lion show on or something. They were in their own little corner of the universe, backlit by jellies and fluoros. Lisbon ran her hands up Jane's stomach, across his chest and around his shoulders, pulling him close. She deepened the kiss, ran a hand through his hair. Jane's hair, haughty, such a light, colour, glowed under the fluorescence, an up close jellyfish with tendrils she could pat.

Jane closed his eyes, allowed himself to float. He'd taken a second round of opiates to ease the throbbing in his ankle, and everything was mildly spinning, amazing. Lisbon's hands ran down his arms, across his stomach, around his back, and she pressed herself against him, mouth still exploring his. He gripped onto the crutches tightly, wasn't sure he wouldn't fall, didn't care if he did.

"Lisbon," he half moaned when she released his mouth so they could both take some deep, ragged breaths. "Jellies have barbs, some have them, did you know?"

Jane's eyes opened. He saw glowing everywhere, and Lisbon had wrapped herself tightly around him, lips still inches from his, staring up at him with dark, dark pools where her eyes should have been. He could feel her breath and she could feel his... breath too.

"Yes, Jane. Jellyfish can sting...?" She ran her hand across his throat, glanced around to make sure nobody was around and surreptitiously unfastened two buttons on Jane's shirt. She ran her fingers underneath, feeling, caressing, admiring.

Jane threw his head back, just a little, rocked on his crutches.

"God, Lisbon." His voice cracked. "I was going to make a joke about penetrating barbs, you've decimated that."

"I haven't. You can show me", she whispered into his ear. She looked over at an 'authorised staff only' door to the left of the gigantic jelly tank. Nodded at it pointedly. Jane swallowed thickly.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Um. M-rated? M-rated. This chapter was, erm, hard. To write. Snicker. No, but really.

"Lisbon", Jane whispered to the very alluring brunette wrapped around him. "Are you sure you're ready to leave the land of glowy magical twinklelights? Because I'm not finished enlightening you on all things jellyfish. I brought you here for education purposes only, did I not mention that?"

Teresa huffed, sensing his denial. She ran a hand through his jellyfish hair, pinks and greens highlighting his unruly curls. She caressed his cheek, feeling the stubble, before brushing along his throat and the part of his chest she'd exposed. Her hand continued, skimming down his shirt, feeling his stomach muscles bunching in response, before stopping to rest on the bulge in his slacks.

Jane was hyper receptive to her touch and well and truly out of his comfort zone. Ordinarily he would use various methods of biofeedback to control his physiological reactions to external stimuli, but it didn't seem right to use his control techniques with Teresa. Also, he just plain didn't want to. Not now, not when she was looking at him like that and touching him like that.

"Go on then. Jellyfish. I'm all ears", Teresa whispered back, untucking Jane's shirt from his pants.

"You like public? That is something I did not know about you. Because this is very... public...", Jane gulped. He couldn't touch her, which he badly wanted to; or reach to stop her, which he badly did not. His hands were gripping tightly onto his crutches. He was doing his best to stand upright, stay balanced.

"That. Was not. Jellyfish. Related." She punctuated her statement with kisses. The allure of seeing Jane out of his comfort zone did things to her, she couldn't explain it. Lisbon had never had an exhibitionist streak before, and she didn't have one now. Over a decade of waiting had taken its toll, maybe.

Jane closed his eyes to block out the shimmering jellyfish, but even moreso the playful, knowing glitter in Lisbon's gaze.  
"Jellies, uh, some give birth through their mouth."

"Wow. You really know how to show a girl a good time."

"Yeah, it's what I'm famous for. Do you really think you should be doing that? Here?"

"Doing what?" she asked innocently. Lisbon bit her lip as she undid the button on Jane's trousers.

"Undressing me. In public." He opened his eyes, tried to boldly stare her down but failed miserably. This was a new experience for Jane; he was out of his depth.

"Well. Jane." She slowly unzipped his fly. "For one thing, there's nobody here but us and your beloved jellyfish. For another, I wanted to go in that there door-", she nodded toward the staff only door, "-and you're the one holding steady."

"It's probably locked," he breathed.

"Yeah right, so says the master of lockpicking."

"I'm probably on some super secret suspected terrorist watchlist by now. What do you think will happen if I'm arrested for breaking into an aquarium?"

Lisbon sighed. "Fine. No B&amp;E. Back to the jellyfish." She kissed his throat and elicited a very satisfying whimper.

"Ummm...", Jane hummed a little, trying to think through the haze of sensations. "Jellyfish are older than dinosaurs?"

"Is that a question?" Her fingers ran across the elastic of his underwear, and then slowly across the expanse just above. Lisbon smiled when he visibly shivered. "Because you're meant to be the expert."

"I'm not. Ask me about cold reading or the perfect scrambled eggs instead."

"I would", Lisbon purred slowly, a little sarcastically, "if you had brought me to a psychic's lair or a chicken coop." Her fingers traced his underwear along his hip and around to his lower back. She dipped her hand inside his slacks, firmly fondled one half of his buttocks.

"Psychics prefer to think of it more as a parlour or a, a, uh, sanctum, rather than a lair...".

"I thought there was no such thing as psychics."

"Mmm. So very true. But even Santa Claus gets annoyed when you refer to his workshop as an elf sweatshop."

"Patrick Jane: defender of charlatans." She slipped her hand under the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, exploring the bare skin of his rump, fingers brushing, exploring.

He scrunched his eyes closed tightly. "They haven't brains."

"Psychics?"

"Them too, but I was talking about jellyfish. No brains."

Lisbon glanced around to the two entrances to the jellyfish exhibit: all clear. This room was obviously not the main attraction, tucked in a corner of the aquatic park. It didn't seem likely anybody would interrupt them any time soon. The glitter of the jellyfish really was romantic. Huh. Damn him and his know-it-all ways. She tugged down the front of his boxer briefs and pulled out his mostly erect penis, squeezing firmly.

Jane groaned loudly, his hips flexing forward involuntarily. He almost lost his balance. "Oh. God."

Lisbon had one arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him down for a searing kiss. He responded eagerly, plunging his tongue into her welcoming mouth. She ran her fist up and down his length and was rewarded with a series of strangled moans.

Lisbon broke the kiss to smile seductively. She licked her lips, her roving fist unrelenting on his erect flesh.

"Teresa. All seriousness? I, uh- oh, God". He swallowed deeply. "I don't have the, uh, you know, I'm out of practice? I don't really have the, um, staying power. You keep doing that, we're going to have a problem."

The vulnerability he was exhibiting was out of character and incredibly endearing. Instead of stopping she sped up her stroking, just slightly. Enough to make Jane utter an obscenity. That was new. Hot.

"Tell you what, Jane. I'll stop what I'm doing if you continue on with your lesson." Her hand stilled then and he sucked in a deep breath, opening his eyes, taking a moment to focus on her face.

"You're quite the seductress. Who knew?" He was breathless.

Lisbon grasped Jane's hips, kissed him lightly on the lips. "Jellyfish lesson. Now." She gestured to the small, glowing living candles surrounding them. Jane grinned at her. She was better at his game than he was.

"Uh, okay. Jellyfish are mostly just a rudimentary stomach that digests and- oh, God!"

Lisbon had dropped to her knees and taken him into her mouth. She sucked gently, demurely, on the head, sticking her tongue out to taste him. She fondled his engorged shaft with her hand. Jane was immediately reduced to a series of primal moans, his mind lost to sensation. He flexed his hands, wanted to touch her desperately. Lisbon sucked him deeper and he groaned and then shook his head back and forth. Literally, like a dog might shake water from its coat, and it brought himself back to a semblance of control. Tenuous, but there. He could play this game.

"They don't breathe, they have such a thin skin, they just absorb oxygen from the water." Jane, a little short of breath, managed to recite this fact with an air of importance and seriousness. Lisbon's suction was exquisite and torturous. The jellies glowed around them, science and magic combined.

"Little jellies usually don't live long, and the big ones can live up to a year or so. I think the ones in an aquarium live longer though, than the ones in the wild. For all the various, obvious reasons. I heard of a jelly that can live up to 30 years. I don't know if that's true though."

He spoke in a rush, and Lisbon rewarded him by swirling her tongue around and around, grasping his thighs. Jane leaned heavily into his crutches, not caring about the pain in his armpits where they were digging into his flesh.

"God, Lisbon. I'm gonna, um, you might wanna not do that... oh God."

Jane lost the ability to complete a sentence and descended into a lot more religious worship than should be acceptable for an atheist. Lisbon knew she was good at this, her bedroom skills were not lacking. Next time she would take him slower, languorously. But this time? She sucked him harder and deeper and was rewarded as he groaned carnally and spilled into her mouth, onto her willing tongue. Lisbon made eye contact with Jane as she swallowed. She released him and sat back on her heels, daintily wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked so innocent as she gazed up at him.

Taking a moment to get his bearings and then his balance, Jane dropped the crutches on the ground before dragging Lisbon to her feet and kissing her thoroughly. He held her tightly in his arms.

"Lisbon, that was amazing, and I really need you to know", he whispered in her ear, "jellyfish are the most energy efficient swimmers in the world..."


End file.
